


Riled Up

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [133]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, Bottom Sam, ER visit, Flirting, Fluff, Hickies, M/M, Minor Injuries, Rough Sex, dean is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8659324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: Benny was totally Dean’s type - beard, blue eyes, thick muscled, accent. But every time he stayed the night, he slept on the couch.Unfortunately, Benny was also totally Sam’s type - kind, intelligent, and he always snuck vegetables into anything he cooked when he came for dinner, much to Dean’s horror when he had realized.





	1. Not too bad

Peppy music warbled out of his earbuds, hanging down on his chest, as Sam peeled a banana and dumped it into the blender with soy milk, protein powder, and a mix of greens. His tank was plastered to his back with sweat, some hair had come out the pony tail to fall over his eyes and get in the way. Rubbing forehead to shoulder, Sam bounced with left over energy as he fit the top to the blender and turned it on.

Dean was a heavy sleeper, no amount of noise-making in the kitchen would get him out of bed.

But Sam hadn’t counted on one of Dean’s friends crashing on the couch. Benny must have come over really late, if Sam had missed him. Shooting an apologetic smile over his shoulder as Benny shuffled into the narrow kitchen galley, Sam turned off the blender and grabbed a glass.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you on the couch.”

“S’alright, cher. What the hell is that?”

Shaking the thick sludge from the bottom of the blender - that was the best part - Sam leaned against the counter. “My smoothie? What’s wrong with my smoothie?”

“Why are you eating that at…” Benny peered at the clock on the stove, “Six o’clock in the morning. Shit, it’s only six?”

“I’m a morning person, I just finished my run.” Sam shrugged. Rinsing out the blender, he left it in the sink to join Benny at the small two-person table squashed between a tall cupboard and the fridge. Gulping down half of his smoothie in one go, Sam was acutely aware of Benny staring at him.

Of course, when Benny started spending more time around their apartment, Sam had assumed that he and Dean had a thing. Benny was totally Dean’s type - beard, blue eyes, thick muscled, accent. But every time he stayed the night, he slept on the couch.

Unfortunately, Benny was also totally Sam’s type - kind, intelligent, and he always snuck vegetables into anything he cooked when he came for dinner, much to Dean’s horror when he had realized.

So Sam was all too aware that he was sweaty and gross and red faced, holding on a little too defensively to his health smoothie. The two of them were kind of big for the table, feet bumping underneath, shoes kicked off at the door always and suddenly Sam was horrified to think he was probably smelling up the kitchen.

“Does that actually taste good?”

Benny looked doubtful. Sam would think that Benny could appreciate a healthy smoothie, but then again Benny also liked to indulge in rich deserts and made roux for his jambalaya with way too much lard - it was delicious, Sam couldn’t say no to seconds.

“I mean, I’m used to it,” Sam told him. It was, well, it was good for him and it was what he should have after a run. “Besides, you like healthy things, you’re always forcing vegetables on Dean.”

Benny smiled, quiet and sleepy in the dusty morning light through the small window over the sink. “I like healthy things, but I don’t put anything in my mouth that doesn’t taste good.”

Sam, of course, was mid-sip and managed to choke on a lump of banana.

Benny was really, really staring at him as he thumped his chest and nodded, face contorting through who knows how many impulsive twitches.

“I uh. I mean. It tastes pretty good.”

“Mind if I try?”

His glass was empty but there was a little of the thick smoothie still clinging to the sides, so Sam nudged the glass across the table and shrugged. “There’s not much left.”

Leaning over the table, Benny stretched a hand across the space, bypassing the glass, swiping a thumb against the corner of Sam’s lips. Sam, for his part, was very helpful as he sat there open mouthed and tried not to dart his tongue out against Benny’s thumb. He failed.

“You got a little something….” Benny murmured, eyes on Sam’s lips.

As startling as it had started, it ended, Benny drawing his hand back and leaning casually against the back of his chair, gray t-shirt stretching across his broad chest. Sucking his thumb into his mouth, he hummed and gave Sam a nod.

“I s’pose it’s not too bad.”


	2. Fair's fair

Tapping his pencil agitatedly on the pages of his open Calc II book, Sam blinked against the numbers that were starting to blur and move around on the page. Sighing, he swiveled his small chair - so low his knees almost touched his stomach - and squinted at the clock on his nightstand. Eleven PM. That wasn’t that late. It was a Friday night so he had all of Saturday and Sunday, but there was also a Psych paper due on Monday and a big French test on Tuesday, plus smaller assignments. He really should finish calc tonight.

Instead, Sam braced his feet on the legs of his swively chair and pushed against the edge of the desk to turn himself in circles. He always told himself it was easier to study when Dean wasn’t home, but the lack of background noise somehow made it harder.

Stopping his chair, Sam wheeled back to his desk, and thumped his head down.

There was a brusque knock at the front door to the apartment.

Grateful for the distraction, Sam scrambled up and down the hall, paused in the kitchen to pat his hair down, sniff under his pits and move a few dishes from the counters to the sink.

It was a familiar knock.

Pulling the door open wide, Sam smiled, “Hey Benny.”

“Hey, sugar.”

Holding up a six pack like a price of admission, Benny gave a small smile and moved to the fridge to put away the beer while Sam locked the door.

“Didn’t think you were coming over tonight, Dean’s working late.”

“Well, that’s why I’m over. Came to see you.”

It was stupid, Sam was stupid. But whenever Benny had hung out at their place before he and Sam were a thing - when Sam was thinking that Benny and Dean were a thing - Benny had seemed almost antiquatedly polite, like he was putting it on too thick to get into Dean’s pants. Now that his charm was turned on Sam, Sam somehow reverted to a shy awkward teenager and had to bite back a giggle as Benny crowded him against the counter and kissed him gently.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to get anymore homework done tonight.

-

“Shit… ah, shit!”

Benny pulled back, lips swollen and wet, “Too hard, cher?”

“No, god no, come on, harder…”

Licking his lips, Benny dipped down, erection riding the crease of Sam’s hip, and bit harder into the tender junction of Sam’s neck. The beard was soft, at first, but after so many passes of lips and teeth Sam’s skin was so sensitive it felt too coarse, too much. It made his dick jump pressed between their bellies.

Squeezing his thighs against Benny’s side, Sam raked blunt nails through short hair and kneaded roughly at the strong expanse of Benny’s shoulders. Sweating and shaking - and he didn’t even have a dick in him yet - Sam writhed under Benny’s weight and whimpered until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

It felt good, to have all of that pulled up and out of him, cursing, a little crying, reduced to a jumble of sensations under Benny’s hands and his mouth. God, his mouth. Biting lower, pausing to suck and tug at skin, rolling Sam’s nipples between his teeth and biting rings around them, Benny dragged calloused fingers along his ribs and rolled his hips languidly slow. The hot line of his dick made Sam’s mouth water and he could feel his ass clenching in anticipation.

It was fucking wild how riled up Benny could get him.

Sam almost screamed when Benny latched onto the soft spot below his belly button, sucked wetly and dragged teeth down lower. Getting a hand in Benny’s short hair and pushing, Sam lifted his hips up and rutted his dick against the soft hair of Benny’s beard. Blue eyes glassy in the scant light from the parking lot outside, Benny licked slowly up and around Sam’s dick before taking the head between wet lips - and oh so gently biting.

Sam spasmed and tried not to shove his whole dick into Benny’s throat.

Folding his legs up, Sam braced his feet on Benny’s shoulders and pushed, heaving himself up and over Benny to pin him to the bed. One hand braced on Benny’s chest, Sam rutted against him shamelessly and flung a hand back to search for the lube blindly.

“My turn,” Sam told him.

“C’mon then, sugar, take what you want.”

Slicking Benny’s thick cock, Sam twisted around to finger himself, just enough to get wet. He liked when it hurt a little.

Wiping his fingers on messy sheets, Sam grasped Benny’s cock at the base and sank down slowly, just halfway and he was bouncing on it, dull ache loosening as he relaxed. Leaning forward and bracing his hands beside Benny’s head, Sam rolled his hips down a little at a time until he was flush to Benny’s lap. Warm hands settled on his ass and Benny squeezed, dragged his fingers up the curve of Sam’s spine and tangled in his hair.

Leaning down to kiss him, the moment quiet with panted breaths as they lay against each other, there was a loud clatter in the kitchen and a familiar ‘aha!’ from Dean. Groaning, Sam bumped his forehead against Benny’s.

“We should be quiet.”

“Why?”

Benny pushed up off the bed, bouncing Sam up on his lap and fucking him deep. Sam muffled a moan against Benny’s mouth and fisted his hands in the sheets. Tensing his stomach, he rocked down onto it.

Okay, so, he had overhead Dean’s raucous conquests more than a few times. Fair’s fair, right?

—-

Dean had slogged through a rough closing shift with aching feet and a fixed grin plastered on his face, but he had earned great tips for it so he’s not complaining. There was some fancy micro-brew in the fridge when he got home, and he figured Sam wouldn’t mind if he had one of them. Of course, he was tired and managed to drop the six pack trying to get one untangled from it, but he was lucky that they hadn’t broken.

At least Sam had a good night from the sounds of it, probably unaware when Dean had come home late. Good for him. Sam needed to get out more, he was way too focused on school. Which, yeah it was important, but a man can’t live on books alone.

Dean has no idea where Sam went to pick up a chick last night, didn’t even think Sam did casual sex - and Dean is pretty sure there isn’t a girlfriend he’s unaware of. But, Dean also didn’t hear her sneaking back out last night, so he’s making scrambled eggs and toast for all of them the next morning.

Even when he works fuck-ass late, his internal clock seems to think it’s appropriate to wake up at eight fucking AM.

The shower is running and the sun is bright outside the small kitchen window. Dean’s off work, so maybe he can rope Sam into catching a movie today. Maybe, mystery girl will want to go too. Humming tunelessly, comfy in his Batman pj pants and an old Metallica shirt, Dean hears the kitchen table chair creak behind him.

He’s a bit surprised to see Benny there.

“Hey, Benny, thought I told you I was working late last night.”

Benny blinks at him slowly. “You did.”

“Huh. Didn’t see you on the couch when I came in.”

Dean turns back to the stove.

Sometimes, Benny misses his texts. Maybe they had a small party or something last, maybe Benny brought friends over. Not like Benny has many friends outside of Dean, though. But hey, at least Benny and Sam are getting along better. They were pretty frosty to each other at first, until they started ganging up on Dean about stupid things like eating more vegetables.

“Huh,” Benny drawls slowly.

Dean turns around, holding the skillet as he flips eggs over, and Benny is watching Dean like he’s just not picking up on something.

The shower turns off. Through the kitchen door, Sam shuffles in toweling his hair off wearing a pair of plaid boxers.

“You making breakfast, Benny?”

Lowering the towel to around his shoulders, Sam stares at Dean. Dean stares at Sam. Benny stares back and forth between them.

There are livid, mouth shaped bruises from Sam’s neck down to the waist of his boxers - or below.

“Son of a bitch.”

Dean drops the skillet on his foot.


	3. A romantic Saturday at the ER

Benny rested his elbows on his legs and hunched over, playing connect-the-dots with the pink and teal speckles on the off-white linoleum tiles. The hospital buzzed around him, patients coming and going from the ER as Saturday morning turned into Saturday afternoon.

A familiar pair of worn brown boots crossed his line of vision.

Benny sat up and stretched an arm along the back of the chair that Sam sat on.

“So, how is he?” Benny asked.

Sam shrugged, “X-rays are good, no broken bones. Just burns and bruises. He’ll be out soon.”

Groaning, Benny rubbed a hand down his face. Sam leaned against him, nudging his foot. A nurse in maroon scrubs hurried past them. There was a man having a coughing fit in the corner.

Sighing, Sam leaned a head on Benny’s shoulder and said, “We could have broken that to him easier.”

Benny kissed the top of his head. “I thought he already knew.”

“Dean can be pretty oblivious.”

In part, Benny was spending his Saturday at the ER because his best friend, Dean, had dropped a hot cast-iron skillet on his foot. In part, Benny was here because Sam was here and Benny wanted to support him.

They were boyfriends, or partners. Something like that. Maybe Benny should have asked. Sam was busy with school and a part time job, he didn’t have much free time to be sitting around with Benny painting their nails and talking about their feelings. Usually, the two of them would spend a Friday night with Dean drinking and playing board games, or if they had the apartment to themselves they’d spend the time wrestling.

Naked.

Benny knows well enough by now - from experience - that sex does not make a relationship. And isn’t that just something else to feel a little guilty about; he’s got ten years on Sam, easy - Sam is either twenty one or twenty two, Benny should figure that out.

It’s a little murky, but Sam curls against him in the middle of the ER, noses at Benny’s neck and slumps with a yawn, puts a hand on Benny’s thigh like it belongs there. So Benny rubs a hand down Sam’s arm and kisses the top of his head again. Sam’s a sweet guy. Get him worked up and he can be a feral thing, but in calmer moments like this, in waiting moments, it seems like Sam needs someone to lean on. Benny doesn’t mind.

The swinging doors that lead back into the ER open and a very surly looking Dean is pushed through on a wheel chair. One boot is held in his lap, foot wrapped up. The nurse stops him in front of Sam and Benny and tells them that she hopes the rest of their Saturday is better.

Benny sits up. Sam’s broad shoulders are hunched like he’s trying to make himself look smaller and the pout on his face could rival any puppy.

Dean points at Benny. Points at Sam. Shakes his finger between the two of them accusingly.

“Ok, first, you two are taking me to Biggerson’s and buying me a bacon double cheeseburger for breakfast.”

-

“It’s not like I was hiding anything from you Dean,” Sam rolls his eyes so hard that Benny can feel it.

Dean eats his cheeseburger aggressively.

Benny munches on fries. “I thought you already knew, brother. I haven’t slept on your couch for months.”

Dean talks around a mouthful of food, “Months, seriously? Months?”

Stabbing his salad, Sam says, “Come on Dean, it’s not like we’re subtle. Or quiet.”

“I thought you had a girl over!”

“Do I really sound like a girl?” Benny asks, mildly affronted.

“Okay, we’re taking this conversation in a new direction,” Dean tells them. “Benny, you are like, ten years older than my little brother.”

“I’m not a kid, Dean.” Sam shoots back - sounding a bit like a petulant kid.

“It just sort of happened,” Benny tells them.

The tension is thick while they finish eating, the waitress stopping to refill their drinks and quickly retreating.

“I don’t even know what we’ve got going on,” Benny tells a swirl of ketchup on his plate.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks quietly.

“Is this just fun for you Sam? Stress-relief?”

“What?” Sam turns in his chair to face Benny. “No, it’s not. Seriously, Benny?”

“So. What do we have going on?”

“We’re boyfriends.” Sam states plainly.

Benny shifts to look Sam in the eyes, wide open and earnest under floppy bangs. Benny brushes the hair off his face and tucks it behind an ear. “Boyfriends. I like that.”

“Oh, gross you two, get a room.”

When Benny glances across the table, he can see Dean fighting a smile as he tries to look put-out by their display of affection.

“I have a room, Dean,” Sam says.

“Hey,” Dean pouts, “I am injured. You can’t kick me out of our apartment for sex when I’ve got a broken foot.”

“It’s not broken,” Sam shoots back, hand resting on Benny’s thigh under the table, “But we’ll pick up another six-pack on the way home and you can pick what you want on Netflix. Are you busy today, Benny?”

“Nah, cher, I know Dean’s a handful when he’s cranky, wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone to take care of him when it was my fault too.”

“You know, I am sitting right here.”

Sam doesn’t seem to care as he leans over to kiss Benny in the middle of the restaurant.


End file.
